Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 1, 1922 — page 118: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

908 ‘“ But he hasn’t looked at a girl seriously for ten years,” she said, “and he’s forty if he’s a day—forty and more!”’ “Years of ripe judgment,” said Dickon quietly. ‘I really think he’d enjoy taking her to supper.” ‘“Do you know that you’re very gener- ous?” “I despise handicaps.”’ “Very well. You shall not lose greatly by the change.” And as the result of that simple maneuver Dickon had the pleasure of taking in Sylvia Lock, who of all the girls at the house party was by far the most significant. He had a double reason for wishing to go in with another than Cynthia, for in the first place he wished to judge her from a distance, from the viewpoint of the rest; and in the second place he did not wish to have the girl think he was dogging her steps. Undoubt- edly her mother had already talked with her about him and talked a great deal; but just what Mrs. Rainey had said he was not at all sure. It would do no harm with Cynthia, in the meanwhile, if he spent most of his early time with others, and particu- larly if he could demonstrate that he was not altogether unacceptable to them. As for Cynthia, she was getting on very well, indeed. She was not talking a great deal, but she was disregarding her mother’s final solemn warning of absolute silence and smiles. By her side sat a consummate con- versationalist who guided the stream of talk that came her way and turned and twisted it so that it was easy for Cynthia to appear even witty with Vincent as a foil. He left charming openings and let her make the obvious hits in such a manner that even Dickon was for a time puzzled. And the success flushed the girl, set that fire of starry happiness in her eyes which only comes with first successes. She was dressed in a jet-black gown with a high, square-cut neck and filmy sleeves. It was far too old for her—it would have done on a matron of forty-five—but indeed it was so far outside her range that it did not seem inappropri- ate. It shocked people into attention, and when they saw that blooming face, that slender, rounded arm, they forgot to criti- cize; for Mrs. Rainey had discovered, by ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. a great stroke of fortune, a modiste who was both obscure and a genius. Dickon decided that she might well have more poise, and yet her open happiness was | effective in its own way. Whenever any one spoke to her she met them two-thirds of the way with a bright smile and with eyes ready to be amused. It was like watching some lovely bird balancing on a sprig of greenery in the sun; one wanted to sit and look and say nothing. In fact, Dickon felt a smile of excitement begin to grow at the corners of his mouth and his heart beat leaped. She had not a jewel on the transparent hands, or on her wrists or her hair or her throat, but her hair was like pale gold, and when she raised her wine glass to touch the liquid with her lips it glowed against the black of her gown as she lifted it and flamed ruby-red against her throat. He could tell by the faint narrow- ing of James Vincent’s eyes that that con- noisseur had noted the picture and enjoyed every instant of it. His fine white head was canted a little to one side; and with a start Dickon recognized in the corners of his mouth that same subdued smile of excite- ment. He remembered what the cynic himself had said at Silverman’s on that wild night: ‘ Chains of spider-web, but God, how they pull!” And remembering that Dickon closed his eyes hard, banished the picture of the girl across the table from him, and turned reso- lutely to Sylvia Lock. She was talking in a low tone with that delicate modulation which only a woman of culture knows; there was a touch of delightful Southern Softness to it; she had had a “ darky mam- my ” she told him, when she was a child. A new excitement grew on Dickon. The hum of talk came in upon him from all sides, threads of half a dozen conversations alternately hushed as some one struck a dominant tone for an instant, and then swelling again, talk of sports, and the hunt that was to come to-morrow morning. Far down the table sat Mrs. Littleton, alert, throwing in her weight when the talk lagged and bringing out the best in her guests; then listening with what William North said was the greatest of all social gifts. comicloool C©